Abreaction
by Novoux
Summary: He couldn't forget. This had all been planned out so carefully, his plan to erase his memories to the point where they'd be smudges on paper and not jabbing him every minute of the hour. Izaya wasn't sure how long he can pretend it doesn't hurt when Shizuo's already given in. It shouldn't be this way and this relationship wasn't meant to exist. Sequel to Breaking Point. Shizaya.


He couldn't forget. This had all been planned out so carefully, his plan to erase his memories to the point where they'd be smudges on paper and not jabbing him every minute of the hour. Physically, he noted to himself with a scowl that felt more like a frown—he was beginning to despise feeling at all—his arms, face, and back were bruised. But his left arm, the one that he had hit the door with and the very one Shizuo had grasped so tightly—was swollen and burning. On top of that his head ached and he was self-assured in the fact that it had just been from hitting the door. Not the way everything ached in a depressingly melancholic way because he didn't care for things like that. He really shouldn't.

Glancing at the clock out of one swollen eye resting on the coffee table of his apartment he did not count the hours. 03:00. Five _hours_ of (agony) sitting in his apartment like he was expecting something to happen but it never did. It wasn't like he didn't try going to sleep because he did, (how could he sleep when he hadn't even slept in his own bed for weeks) and his head and arm kept him grudgingly awake. And all too aware of the world around him. Nevertheless, he felt numb and raw and breaking—Frustratingly enough, he never knew why. And in those five hours he realized he'd forgotten his laptop and then was grimly reminded that Shizu—Shizuo, damn it, nearly snapped it in half. Tomorrow; today, really, he'd get another one. It wasn't like he could focus on work no matter how much he tried.

He cursed under his breath when words failed him again. In the (confines) comfort of his own apartment he remembered just how empty it felt and told himself he didn't feel anything, nor did he care. This was how it was supposed to be, and any thoughts otherwise were unnecessary. Emotions were not part of the game called life unless he wanted to lose. Being a god amongst his humans he didn't have time for such trivial things. Meanwhile, his arm burned like his bones had been set on fire and slowly melting the muscle and skin. Blotchy red and dark purple discolored his entire lower arm and he considered the idea of going to Shinra more plausible as the pain continued, in favor of not contracting some disease or accidentally ruining his arm. His work would suffer even more, if it hadn't enough.

Painfully shifting and catching his lip instead of letting out a hiss he reached for his phone in his left pocket, his aching fingers clumsily wrapped around the plastic and plucked it from his jeans. Fingers twitching while he found Shinra's contact number and dialed.

As he waited for Shinra to pick up he forced himself not to think of anything. Focus on the pain, or anything rather than remembering what Shizuo said and fingered the puckered flesh of his left eye. One ring, two rings, three—

"Izaya?" Shinra murmured a greeting, laced with sleep and slight irritation at being woken. "What's up?" Pain flared in Izaya's head, reacting just as strongly in his arm and he bit at his lip, tasting blood while stifling a hiss.

"Hey, Shinra." Izaya's voice did _not_ crack and he certainly didn't swallow and clear his throat. Fingers touching, grasping, grabbing, bruising tight and—"I need to be patched up a bit. My arm's broken." Breathe; do not react to the nightmares. There was plenty of air—_obviously—_in his (too big—too _empty) _apartment. Ghosts of fingers burned trails of invisible touch on his exposed skin, trailing underneath his shirt and he held back a groan. Blinked away the phantoms and shook his head in denial. He was sleep deprived, that's all.

"...Izaya? Are you listening?" Shinra's voice cut through to him and the informant realized how stupid he was being, hung up on the aching pang that _did not exist _in his chest down to the way his stomach churned with bile. Maybe he was becoming ill.

"What?" Izaya couldn't stop the shudder that stole the air from his voice. Gooseflesh rose and accentuated the bruises pulsing under his skin, just like—_stop_. This was not the time to give in to these basic, primal (human) urges. Logic dictated that nothing was choking him, there are no fingers around his throat and nothing is screaming—I _hate _you—in his head. Shinra was talking to him on the phone.

"Are you okay? I asked you what happened." Shinra's concern was shielded, but Izaya could hear it through the phone and swallows like he wasn't trying to stop his body from betraying him right now. "Do you need me to come get you? What's going on?"

"F-Fine, Shinra." Izaya snapped at him. Though by the way his voice split and caught on his tongue he wasn't entirely convinced himself. "Just a fight with," he did not force himself to swallow another choking noise and the disgusting part was that he couldn't say it.

"Do you need me to have Celty come get you? You don't sound too good." Scuffling sounds in the background made it possible that Shinra was getting out of bed.

"I'll be there." Izaya forced the words out with more edge than needed because anger and rage or even fury was slow-creeping up his throat and tearing the flesh apart with claws of burning and piercing and he didn't want to accept that he, a god of humans, was acting like a child. One press of the 'end call' button and Shinra's voice was cut out of the apartment humming with newborn silence. On his sofa in the swallowing darkness his legs were tangled and pressing his knees into his chest as tightly as they could be.

In the silence of his apartment he could still hear the sounds of trying to keep his pesky emotions from escaping. Tidal waves if the numb, rotting feeling rose up and crashed, shaking and making his traitorous body tremble. His chest heaved and ached when he forced deeper breaths through his nose, almost slapping his hand over his mouth when he suddenly doubled over. Curled over himself from the shock waves of festering emotion rising up to claw out of his throat or rip his ribcage open and pour out in some horrifying display of gore which was what he visualized emotions to be. If it were true, (and he happened to test that theory) then he could simply rip out the source of all these excruciating and useless feelings.

It was just a cold, he told himself.

* * *

"You really should talk to him, you know." Shinra sighed as he gently probed Izaya's arm with trained fingers, searching for any hints of internal damage besides the dark bruises that littered the skin like a wine stain made more believable by the way Izaya's fingers trembled from the moment he came through the door. Izaya shook his head, refusing to tear his gaze from the floor as he did. The bruise on his eye had been a strange addition to Izaya's appearance and he kept his face partially covered, silently relaying that he wasn't about to talk about it. "Well, it's not like this is your first fight with him. Why can't you just go talk to him like you normally do? I mean, not tease him. Besides, you told me that all you two did was fight verbally. Surprisingly." A particularly rough jab of Shinra's thumb made Izaya grunt, reflexively trying to rip his hand out of the doctor's grasp while he got a miserable excuse of an apology and settled back down again.

Izaya was surprisingly silent as he held an icepack to his eye retrieved by Shinra after Izaya had settled on his couch. Shinra thought he saw those red eyes narrow viciously and his jaw twitched, but then again it could have just been he was seeing things. Being woken up at three in the morning with Izaya calling him happened to have those sorts of effects. And currently Celty was still sleeping while the commotion continued on in the living room: blissfully unaware—or at least, for a couple more hours.

"So, what happened?" Shinra started again with the unsatisfactory silence as his previous lack of a reply. All he knew was that Izaya called him half an hour ago complaining of broken bones from the apparent cause of Izaya punching a wall in frustration. Normally he would have asked why Izaya hadn't come to him earlier, seeing as the swelling in his arm had significant time to create enough pressure to trigger the pain Izaya was currently feeling, but he hadn't gotten much of an answer since the informant arrived at the apartment. Oddly enough he believed he knew the answers already. Well, just to be sure, then. "Are you at least going to talk to me? It's unlike you to be silent for this long." Not that the silence was bothering him; just frustrating, per say, when only having the verbal communication of hissing or grunts when his fingers hit a sensitive spot on Izaya's arm and not getting anywhere in the story of how Izaya came to be like this. The bruise on his eye gave Shinra several suspicions ranging from a job gone bad or something he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to think about.

"Your interior decorating skills are lacking." Izaya drawled, wincing when Shinra poked at the more swollen flesh surrounding what felt like broken bones. "Really, I could go on about the weather or how you're not making my day any better by just jabbing my arm. Specifics, Shinra." Abruptly the doctor's fingers pulled back and Izaya's arm fell painfully back to his side.

"Look, I'm not above jabbing your arm so you'll cooperate." Shinra informed him cheerfully and Izaya snorted. "But ignoring me or being rude to the person who is fixing your arm without too many questions will get you nowhere. I'd appreciate if you just answer the question and stop being stubborn." Izaya fixed him with a glare, never meeting his eyes.

"What do you need, Shinra? Information? I can give it to you for what you've already done for me. Now hurry up." Izaya hadn't realized the implication of his words in his drug-dazed mind until Shinra's face split into a perceptive smile.

"Tell me what happened to you, Izaya. Or I'll start making assumptions." Shinra threatened halfheartedly, carefully pressing into the same area he had been feeling earlier. Izaya swallowed a flinch from the spike of pain, and Shinra's watchful eyes took note of the reaction to store for his knowledge of Izaya's condition. When the informant hadn't spoken for several moments, Shinra was beginning to wonder if he was actually going to get anything from Izaya about him. "Your arm's broken."

"I noticed." The words were sharpened and dug into Shinra's ears as his fingers began to trace a line of breakage in the bone, pressing with alternating pressures and gauging Izaya's reactions as well as the feel of rigid bone beneath the skin. If anything, his help only made Izaya hate him even more. Oh well.

"Incomplete break, fracture beginning middle of forearm at the ulna spreading into and ending at the underside of the radius, often caused by forceful impact or falling. Confirmed multiple fractures in the lower left arm, including the wrist and three fingers." Shinra murmured to himself as he gingerly rolled Izaya's forearm to the underside and back to check his diagnosis. Something must have clicked, because Shinra's eyes wandered from the bruised forearm and to Izaya's jacket-covered throat, and Izaya was guessing he must've swallowed wrong because there was something strange in Shinra's gaze that makes him feel something akin to uncomfortable annoyance. What was he looking at and why did he bother looking at him like that?

"Izaya," Shinra started, voice dropping to a quieter tone free of drowsiness. "Did Shizuo do this to you?" Fuck.

Their relationship wasn't meant to be public. Although kept to only themselves and a far too curious Celty who told Shinra, it still meant too many people knew. And having known that Shinra would naturally assume the cause of the injuries to be Shizuo after so many years of fighting before not quite fucking, Shinra would only guess because he was that type of predictable. Unlike Shizu—

"Izaya, take off your coat." Definitely not a question. But Izaya was never the type to take orders, but give them. Shinra was no different from this rule.

"Don't order me around, Shinra. Just fix my arm." Izaya ordered haughtily. The falsity of his self-assurance was thin enough for Shinra to easily see through. He was curious to see if Izaya did this intentionally, although anything with Izaya was a guessing game he could only get right if Izaya wasn't even trying—as obnoxiously demeaning that was—or simply too drugged (he'd made sure of that, going by the sheer amount of pain on his face when he showed up at the door) to put up much of a fight.

Shinra held the broken arm in one hand and reached into his medical kit, fishing for splints and wrapping tape as a makeshift short arm cast flexible enough to allow movement, but stunting movement in and around the broken area to promote healing. With splints in hand he made for Izaya to hold both ends while he wrapped a light cotton gauze in several layers around the arm and through thumb and hand. Moving the heavy cotton plaster around Izaya's arm and down to the wrist where he paused, gently spreading Izaya's thumb from his fingers in his loose fist to cast the plaster around the thumb and hand. Finally, he was finishing by cutting the plaster and allowing the mold to set in.

The entire time the procedure occurred the expressions of disgust were more than evident on Izaya's face. Beginning from annoyance he quickly moved to abhorrence and beyond with the first slimy feel of the binding glue sinking in to the cloth layers and quickly hardening to form. He moved as if to open his mouth to protest; however, nothing came from him (a very rare occurrence indeed) and Shinra found himself put off in the feeling originating from his gut that something just wasn't right. Well, he did have all day to find out, going by the look of contempt Izaya bore into him when he thought Shinra hadn't been noticing, or simply didn't care either way if Shinra did as the doctor set to putting braces on his broken ring, middle, and little finger.

"So, you going to tell me anything, or am I going to have to wait until your painkillers kick in enough to make you tell me? You said he never laid a hand on you." Shinra stared pointedly at Izaya's coat bunched around him, giving the hint that he wasn't going to back down. Izaya's free hand clutched at his coat, challenging the stare with his shielded red eyes that taunted Shinra to test him further (full of empty threats and promises) even though he's been down that road before. So he decided this time to accept it, for the sake of trying to get Izaya to stop being so stubborn and sick of watching him recede inside of himself.

"Do I need to call Shizuo? Because I can, if you really don't want to cooperate." Shinra stood from the sofa, fingering his cell phone in his pocket that Izaya can clearly see and knowing how angry it makes the informant when he plays him at his own game although Shinra was angry from the weak attempt at deception. "Look, Izaya. This is for the best interest of both of us. I want to know what happened so I can help you, and so you can sort out whatever's going on with you and Shizuo. And I'm not taking no for an answer. So help yourself right now by helping me."

Izaya glared at him heatedly for several moments. "I asked you to fix my arm, not try to pick me apart like carrion, Shinra. I don't need anything from you, especially concerning that protozoan monster." He pretended nothing was wrong. It was a coping method Shinra knew grimly well in the years of watching Izaya withdraw further and further into his own world to escape. He'd wish that he knew why, but answering that was like trying to answer the meaning of life; it changed, it had different weights of opinions, and was a pain in the ass to figure out. But for Shizuo to hit Izaya to the point of breaking bones even in a (what he assumed) romantic relationship made his temper flare.

"I'm not picking you apart." Shinra sighed, holding the phone numbly in his fingertips just inside his pocket. "I'm trying to help you because I'm not accepting your sore excuse of an answer to shut me out. You and I aren't very good friends, especially because of what you've done to Celty. But just listen to me for once, and help me help you. I don't want to pity you, I just don't want to sit and watch you hurt yourself. Just try and tell me something, anything that can at least give me some information." The heartfelt word vomit was poetically nauseating in prose; however Shinra did give himself credit for trying to voice these certain types of things. It wasn't exactly his nature to always know what to say like Celty. But he still tried.

Izaya was motionless. Free hand clenched in a tight white-knuckle fist that gave the slight twitch as a craving for the flickblade usually in the left pocket of Izaya's coat and he sat still with eyes staring with an empty gaze ahead of him, unfocused.

So it was this type of injury, then. Shinra sighed to himself internally and put together the pieces. Shizuo must have gotten angry and Izaya being the irritating asshole he was probably either taunted him or they had some sort of miscommunicated issue going on. "What was the fight about?"

Izaya raised an eyebrow, and red eyes were on him. "Shizu-chan is a monster. Obviously he can't control himself." Confirmed that theory, then.

"Well, why don't we give him a call and talk to him about this. You're not going to get anywhere by ignoring it, you know." Shinra plucked his phone from his pocket and he heard a growl from the sofa.

"It's none of your business, Shinra." Izaya spoke the warning with a deadly glare that could match Shizuo's animosity. "Enough."

"Izaya, I told you I'm not—" Shinra started in exasperation, scrolling to Shizuo's number before suddenly his phone was knocked from his hand and Izaya was up from the couch in a flurry of movement, crushing Shinra's cellphone beneath his boot and smiling wryly when Shinra glared at him.

"I've got to go, business to do." Izaya excused himself crossly and quickly turned, accidentally catching the sleeve of his jacket on the newly-set cast of his arm and pulling the material when his arm fell to his side. In a flash Shinra caught sight of purplish, yellow, and blue bruises set like polka dots as if it was just a prank from how many spots there were ranging from new to old. Shinra hissed choice curses under his breath for how stupid Izaya could be.

"Izaya!" he called in a warning tone. "You walk out that door, and it won't be just me you'll deal with. I know you think that I don't care, but you're wrong. I can't just sit and pretend that he's hurt you and I've got no reason as to why or what the hell is even going on!"

Izaya stopped. Turned his head and dropped the icepack, (Shinra noticed the way he lost his composure when the pain hit, only for seconds too long to be healthy) giving a disgustingly saccharine smile that couldn't curve the black eye nearly shut from just how swollen it was. "Bye, Shinra." he waved, looking right through the doctor before the door opened and shut with a sense of finality even moments after Izaya had left. (With a limp Shinra hadn't noticed earlier.)

When Shinra finally snapped out of his angered daze he bent down, reaching for the shards of what was left of his phone and was faintly surprised when shadows circled the broken plastic, prompting him to look toward the source standing in the doorway.

"You heard all of that?" It wasn't really a question, because he already knew the truth. Celty nodded, taking out her PDA and typing while her shadows set the broken cellphone on the sofa.

[Every word. You two are loud when you argue at four in the morning. So, is Shizuo involved in this more than you think?] Had time passed that quickly? She didn't say it, but Shinra knew it pained her to involve Shizuo because he was her friend.

"Yeah. I don't just think, I know." Shinra sighed and stifled a yawn. "He's covered in bruises. This has been going on for more than just tonight, and he hasn't even told me anything. I doubt he will, anyway."

[You have to realize it's Izaya we're talking about. If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's that he'll never willingly talk about himself if he can't control and benefit from it.]

"Celty doubts my love for her? How could you?" Shinra bemoaned with a shrill whine that he covered his mouth from just to keep up the pained appearance as a smile threatened to break through. Celty rolled her eyes and typed, walking over.

[Shut up, Shinra. Anyway, I think I'll try and talk to Izaya, but since he can be hard to find I'll be sure to contact Shizuo as well at least sometime today. It's bothering me to see them like this.] Then with a punch to Shinra's shoulder, she grabbed her helmet with her shadows and headed to the door.

"Well, even though it's early, have fun, my darling. And if Shizuo lays a hand on you, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself." Shinra waved, rubbing his arm with his characteristically goofy grin reserved for his one and only Celty.

[Yeah. Whatever. See you later.] She snorted (but she was blushing) after pulling her arm back, heading out the door where the informant had departed minutes earlier. Shinra was beside himself in coming to his own conclusions without any information from an informant, as ironic as it was. But on a serious note, he did question if Izaya would actually speak to Shizuo and figure out what went wrong, or Shinra would have to force those two idiots to make up and try not to kill each other.

* * *

[So, let me get this straight. You've been fighting with him, and now you've messed up and that leads to Izaya showing up at three in the morning.] Celty's PDA was held up for Shizuo to read, having met up with him at now seven in the morning after two hours of searching Ikebukuro and Shinjuku for Izaya. But no luck and an hour to convince Shizuo to talk with her under the threat of forcefully dragging him out of his apartment.

"Obviously." Shizuo grumbled, a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth which Celty noticed had been his first one in a long while. Had he—? "So why are you even here if you already know what happened?"

His anger was biting, but Celty brushed it off. [I want to know what happened between you two to come to this. Both of you are hurt, and I'm not stopping until I get answers. Just tell me what caused the fight.]

Shizuo ran a hair through his choppy bleach-blond hair and grumbled under his breath, adjusting his blue sunglasses in spite of the irritating rays of the rising sun glaring him in the face. "He's been ignoring me lately, for the past month. Actually, it's more like we never got anywhere from when we first started...y'know, and we hate each other now as much as we did then."

[What do you mean? As in, relationship-wise?] Celty prompted.

"Yeah, something like that." Shizuo leaned on one hand pressing onto the stone ledge he was sitting on. He gazed at the sky instead of Celty and realizing how embarrassing it was to talk about relationship problems like schoolgirls. "I've been trying to get him to talk to me more, and not just be sarcastic or taunt me whenever we're together. But in all these months, he's still just as stubborn as he is annoying."

Celty considered this and then typed. [That sounds like Izaya. What would you like for him to do with you?]

Unsure of where she was going with this and turning his head away at the mention of Izaya's name, Shizuo plucked the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled before clutching it in his teeth again. Nicotine was an unfamiliar but welcome calm that spread through his lungs and made his angry thoughts drag, but he knew it was nothing compared to the alternative. "I don't know, talk? What is it that makes it better?" God, this was embarrassing. Nothing amounted to the anger and guilt sizzling beneath his skin with each recollection of the night before and he inhaled sharply when the image of Izaya's broken mask flashed behind his eyes. Eyes bright with pain when he felt the bones of Izaya's left arm crumble like nori under his deadly fingers and it was jarring enough when he realized he had kissed the same skin with the same fingers.

[I think I know what the problem is.] Celty began to type, showing Shizuo her inquiry and then pulling back to type. He wasn't looking at her or the words because his mind was too heavily preoccupied with watching Izaya run limping and never turning back. Guilt tightened in his chest. [Relationships rely on communication. If you don't know what your partner is thinking or what they mean, it causes disaster.] Screaming, shouting anger when that milk glass broke beneath his hand and the way his fist connected with Izaya's face and he watched Izaya stumble back, cracking against the wall in a way that was the silent cry of _stop_. And he kept _going_.

"And?" Shizuo questioned, growing frustrated with the lack of relief his cigarette was providing and tempted to stub it out underneath his shoe. Celty nodded, typing some more. Memories were still provoking him, providing him with the phantoms of sleeping with Izaya curled in to him, looking up and empty eyes glaring back into and right through him—_I hate you. I hate you more than anything on this planet._

He shook his head, growling softly to clear the images. Hardly could he be called a saint, he recalled bitterly with a hollow ache reverberating through his chest. Celty finally finished typing, showing him her PDA and what appeared to be several paragraphs to read.

[Izaya isn't exactly the type to show his affections so openly, and maybe he doesn't know how to. I mean, it's entirely possible he's never dealt with this before, so how would he know what to do all the time? And think about it—ever since high school he's acted like this around you, and when you say it hasn't changed, maybe that's how he shows he cares about you.] Shizuo snorted at this, questioning whether or not Celty was actually being serious but kept going. An aching gnaw began to settle in his chest he chose to ignore for now despite the growing sensation with each pulse of his heart.

[What if you changed the way you treat him? Instead of playing along with his taunts and games, be straightforward. Mean what you say, and say what you mean. You're good at showing what you think, so don't guard yourself around him. Izaya probably gets frustrated because he doesn't know what to do to make you understand him, but you have that ability to even get a glimpse of what he's thinking. Maybe if you change the way you show you love him, he'll understand.] Shizuo was silent now, seriously considering Celty's words while most of his thoughts were related to the fact he stubbornly did not want to believe he was relying on someone else for help with likely the most unexpected relationship he's ever had. Celty took a moment to erase her words, typing more of her many thoughts while Shizuo remained strangely quiet. Hopefully she was getting through to him.

[The fights you've been having—you're frustrated. But he is, too. You two act like you're walking on broken glass instead of being together, and it makes everything stressful. Combine that with your temper and Izaya's usual arrogance and you have a disaster. You two need to establish trust, and learn to read each other or it's never going to work. And what happened last night was the breaking point.]

As accurate as she was, Shizuo was loath to admit it due to his pride that was possibly as stubborn as his temper. "So what do you want me to do? Apologize to the flea and pretend it never happened?"

Celty shook her head. [No. Well, I want you to apologize for what you did. You already know that you hurt him physically and mentally. He may not show it, but the injuries he's sustained are a thousand times worse than what you're feeling. Being able to get into his heart like you have is next to impossible if not beyond it, and when people like him are hurt, it's more than just the pain of heartbreak. It's betrayal, anger, confusion, and hurt. And I bet he's been suppressing it because he doesn't fathom the concept of showing emotions.]

Shizuo nodded and by now his cigarette was bitten through, falling to the ground and extinguished by his unmerciful shoe. Any effects of the nicotine were long gone. Celty's words bothered him past the point of mild irritation, closer to full-blown annoyance for accepting his guilt and the stress of having to fix all that he'd fucked up just because he couldn't control himself. Izaya, the damn bastard, was right. He was a monster.

Celty noticed the change in behavior from Shizuo by the way his eyes shifted downward, and she quickly typed. [You're not a monster, Shizuo. You're human. It's okay to be angry. You just need to put that anger to a productive use instead of letting it control you. It'll take time, but I know you can do it.]

"And what am I going to do, look for the flea? You already did and he's nowhere to be found." Shizuo sighed heavily as a result of the stress piling up in his mind. What to say, what to do, all foreign and unknown concepts. And here Celty was, expecting him to get it right if there wasn't enough pressure.

Celty was tapping on her PDA, but she didn't show it to Shizuo when she finished. Instead, a message popped up on her screen and she nodded to herself, almost excitedly before she turned to Shizuo and tapped out another message.

[Check your apartment. After all, don't you have his laptop?] She was up to something. But Shizuo stood, taking her advice and close to the thought of running off to make sure that flea couldn't hide from him. But he didn't.

"Uh, thanks." Celty nodded and waved him off, urging him to leave instead of stay with her. One message lit up her PDA Shizuo read with a passing glance. This was his opportunity because he knew once he'd caught Izaya six months ago, he would never let him go. Strangely hopeful and embarrassed, he was glad Celty only showed him a simple message.

[Now's your chance. Go.]

And he did.

* * *

_The sequel to Breaking Point. Series goes: Breaking Point, Abreaction, Mend_

_Unbeta'd, please forgive my mistakes._

_Thank you for reading._


End file.
